Chapter 91: What Is a Divine General? Chen Guo

Chen Guo lies in the Jiangnan region, where literary culture flourishes; even woodcutters by the roadside and passersby can recite a few lines of poetry. The current emperor is equally masterful in painting and calligraphy, especially skilled in landscape art, and possesses considerable talent in poetry and verse.

What the emperor does, his court follows; most within the palace understand poetry and verse, and can sense the spirit of these two lines.

Not a single brushstroke is applied to the face; emphasis rests solely on the essence—subtlety taken to the extreme.

Especially this girl, whose face is already moon-bright and flower-beautiful, with a voice of crystalline purity, singing in the soft Wu dialect, made it unclear whether the lines “clouds imagine her robes, flowers imagine her face” referred to the imperial consort or the girl singing them. Xue Shuangtao softly sang the next two lines.

“If not on the peak of Qunyu Mountain.”

“Then I would meet her beneath the moon at the Jade Terrace.”

After reciting, no one spoke for a long while. The emperor murmured the poem under his breath, shook his head, and sighed: “Previously, I heard his poem about the swordsman—I thought his wit was sharp, yet always carried a harshness. Today’s offering, ‘Show me who suffers injustice,’—”

“Has my realm not yet found peace?”

“Is Jiangnan not tranquil enough?”

“Whom are you sharpening your blade for? Whose injustice do you seek to expose?”

“This poem today, however, is elegant and refined—it speaks directly to my heart.”

Xue Imperial Consort’s features, graceful and noble, smiled gently: “That child is barely over ten. I heard he has trained under our family for ten years, yet his father has suppressed him, preventing him from showing his true strength. This resentment clearly stems from his desire to earn glory.”

“Doesn’t ‘Show me who suffers injustice’ mean he is willing to draw his sword and uphold the state?”

“The emperor should not be displeased by the youthful vigor of a gifted boy, but rather find fault with his ‘harshness’—that is wrong.”

In these words, she lightly reinterpreted the boy’s poem to better suit the emperor’s mood, subtly crafting an image of a youth who trained for a decade, ready to unveil his ambitions. The emperor’s heart stirred with admiration for talent, and his prior resentment toward him due to aristocratic and military family tensions dissolved.

Xue Imperial Consort smiled and said: “I quite like this poem. What do you think, Your Majesty?”

Privately, she did not refer to herself as “this humble servant.”

She and the emperor had been married for twenty years, their bond deep and sincere. Now that she was finally with child, the emperor cherished her. He patted her hand and said: “If you say you like it, then you like it.”

“He is a good child.”

Xue Imperial Consort whispered: “I’ve heard Chancellor and General Qi Junsong have been critical of this boy. After all, he is of the Xue family. We haven’t even met him, yet they’ve already suppressed him. Are they targeting the boy—or the child growing in my womb?”

The senior eunuch beside her stiffened, cold sweat breaking out.

The emperor merely smiled as usual: “They’ve merely failed to discipline their own sons, meddling in Yue Qianfeng’s military affairs, and taking out their anger on your Xue family’s guest. Don’t overthink it. I’m counting on you to give me a fine child.”

“As for Li Guanyi, as you say, he is indeed a fine talent.”

“Yuan Jingcai?”

The senior eunuch bowed deeply: “Your servant is here.”

The emperor lifted his tea and drank, speaking coolly: “Draft an edict.”

“Today, I heard Li Guanyi presented a poem—its language is splendid, deeply pleasing to my heart. He comes from a respectable family, and bears no harshness. Bestow one hundred taels of silver and a pair of precious jade stones. Inform Dantai Xianming and others: court struggles must not ensnare the innocent. As for past matters—”

“Past matters” referred to the deaths of those military aristocrat youths.

The emperor set down his tea casually and said: “Let it be forgotten.”

Yuan Jingcai bowed: “Yes.”

Yet inwardly he sighed, lamenting how Chancellor Dantai Xianming and the great families had used Qi Junsong’s son as a wedge—aristocrats, officials, imperial relatives, generals, civil servants—all ready to erupt—until the emperor’s casual words crushed this minor conflict.

Struggles would continue, but they could no longer drag Li Guanyi into them.

Those military aristocrat youths had died in vain.

【Language is splendid, deeply pleasing to my heart】

These eight characters sealed Li Guanyi’s identity as a man of good family.

No military family would dare use the old accusations against him again. He glanced at Xue Shuangtao standing nearby, wondering if the girl realized she had just tipped the scales of a small struggle—and given the Zhenwei Captain, who had not yet arrived in the capital, a powerful patron.

He saw the girl exhale slightly, her hand gripping her robe so tightly her knuckles whitened.

Her eyes fixed intently ahead.

More focused than any of the examination candidates who had answered.

He knew she was nervous, reciting poetry before the emperor.

Yuan Jingcai shook his head.

She’s still just a girl. How could she not be nervous?

Yet he wondered: what power does that boy hold, to make her exert herself so fiercely?

After finishing his tea, Xue Imperial Consort personally tuned her zither and composed a melody to sing the poem. The emperor tapped the rhythm. Then, a voice rang out from outside. The emperor sighed: “I must go to the great sacrifice. These past days, I’ve burned incense and prayed daily. Only here, with you, do I find a moment’s peace.”

He held Xue Imperial Consort’s hand, spoke many tender words, then rose to leave.

Only after the emperor was far away did Xue Imperial Consort call Xue Shuangtao over. Xue Shuangtao helped her pregnant aunt sit down. The noble lady reached out and lightly touched Xue Shuangtao’s forehead, feigning scolding: “Little girl, how bold you are.”

Xue Shuangtao clung to her aunt’s arm, swaying and pouting: “I only came to deliver the poem for you! How was I to know His Majesty was here? Auntie~ please don’t be angry.”

Xue Imperial Consort had always loved this young relative.

Seeing her pout, her eyes sweet and innocent, she looked so adorable one wanted to hug and squeeze her.

Even if she had been angry, the anger would have melted by a third. Now her face wore a smile: “You’re the one who knows how to speak.”

Xue Shuangtao asked: “Auntie, don’t you like this poem?”

Xue Imperial Consort replied: “How could I not like such exquisite lines? ‘Clouds imagine her robes, flowers imagine her face’—truly well-written. But tell me—is this poem written for me, or for you?”

She teased. Xue Shuangtao answered: “Of course it’s written for you, Auntie.”

Xue Imperial Consort teased further: “Then didn’t he write you a poem too?”

“Of course he did!”

Xue Shuangtao answered instinctively, but then remembered the poem contained her name—she couldn’t show it. She stammered: “I’ll—I’ll bring it to you next time!” Xue Imperial Consort smiled and nodded, patting her hand: “Since you defend him so fiercely, your father approves of him too.”

“When he arrives in the capital, I’ll host a private banquet. Invite him.”

Xue Shuangtao beamed.

She could see this meant Li Guanyi now had a patron in the capital. She always felt that boy’s talent, even if he sought no trouble, would draw trouble to him. Having someone willing to support him was always better.

That night, when writing her letter, the girl packed a box of candied plums.

She wrote: The noble lady loved the poem, but since it was spring, could he write another?

She paused, then erased that line.

After thinking, she wrote only eight characters.

Xue Imperial Consort snatched the letter to read. The girl rushed to snatch it back, but her aunt, pregnant, made her dare not touch her. Xue Shuangtao reached out desperately, tears welling: “Auntie, don’t read my letter! I—I’m not like him. I can’t write poetry!”

“Oh? Can’t write? Then I must read it carefully.”

Xue Imperial Consort opened it triumphantly—and saw eight characters written by the girl.

【Spring flowers bloom, I wait for you】

Xue Imperial Consort stood frozen in the spring breeze for a long while.

She sighed, returned the letter, and gently stroked the girl’s hair. Seeing her eyes brimming with tears, she smiled: “How are you any less than him?”

“But these two lines aren’t enough.”

“Yet even so, you’ve written something no less fine than his poetry.”

【Spring flowers bloom, I wait for you】

What did it mean?

Spring flowers have bloomed. I am here, waiting for you to come.

……………………

Within the secret realm.

Li Guanyi raised his battle halberd, pointing at Xue Shen, his breath still ragged. Three explosive techniques, plus the use of his Dharma Form—his inner Qi was drained, his body pushed to its limit. Yet the defeated Xue Shen remained calm, smiling:

“Not bad. Rarely have I lost half a move to you.”

“The right to dismantle this realm is yours.”

He tossed something to Li Guanyi—a jade stone. Upon touching Li Guanyi’s body, it dissolved into starlight and vanished. This was the authority to rebuild the realm—or rather, the foundation of the realm itself.

As long as Li Guanyi and Yaoguang reunited, they could find a suitable location and rebuild the realm.

Now that he had what he needed, Li Guanyi finally exhaled.

The moment he relaxed—

The spirit, energy, and vitality that had held him up vanished instantly. His halberd felt impossibly heavy, crashing to the ground. He leaned on it, gasping, pores open, sweat bursting forth. He had to control his muscles and meridians to seal his pores, lest he lose more essence.

Yet he found his body, beyond exhaustion, felt… nothing else.

Impossibly healthy.

Remarkably strong.

Xue Shen said: “Golden skin, jade bones, dragon tendons, tiger marrow. Since ancient times, the greatest affliction of generals has been the relentless battles. In chaotic eras, famed generals who conquered the realm faced combat scales and frequencies far beyond those of any martial artist.”

“Too frequent warfare and killing injures the martial cultivator. If injuries heal properly, the foundation isn’t damaged. But when battles come too fast—wounds unhealed before the next clash—great generals may rise to fame through a hundred battles, yet accumulated hidden injuries ultimately doom them.”

“But your foundational physique need not fear this.”

“Your recovery speed is swift, your defense immense, like dragons and tigers taking form.”

“Golden skin, jade bones—blades cannot pierce you. This is the mark of an unparalleled warrior.”

Li Guanyi now understood the true strength of his foundation.

It wasn’t just defense—it was endurance.

A terrifying recovery ability—the right to fight blade-to-blade, trading wounds without hesitation. He clenched his fist, felt blood surging with power, and asked curiously: “You mentioned Dharma Form Heji ?”

Xue Shen said: “Yes. Better yet—it’s Qi-meridian Heji .”

“In our era, around the fourth level, one begins to access the Dharma Form. At the fifth level, one can harness the Qi of ten thousand soldiers to amplify one’s own Dharma Form’s power…”

“You know the Dharma Form is the convergence of essence, energy, and spirit. If one uses formations to channel the strength of millions into this Dharma Form’s flame, the resulting power becomes terrifying. This is why even martial masters of the sects dare not face the battlefield arrays of the military.”

“A standard ten-thousand-man army requires thirty to fifty thousand support personnel. If cavalry are included, even more. Typically, the total exceeds fifty thousand. Among them: two thousand cultivators who have entered the realm, at least two hundred second-level cultivators, ten third-level deputy generals, five fourth-level assistant generals—and even reserve troops are cultivators.”

“The essence, energy, and spirit of so many people converge into a single martial powerhouse.”

“How powerful do you think the manifestation you unleashed in that instant was?”

“This is the battle spirit of the Military School’s battle array—only a general who can command ten thousand men deserves the title. When the manifestation, forged from the collective spiritual fire of ten thousand soldiers, is hurled forth, what are mere martial experts or martial masters but ants?”

“And if two generals, each cultivating complementary arts, can merge their manifestations in harmony.”

“For instance, the Dragon-Tiger Strike.”

“Or the Five Elements, or Yin and Yang—these often unleash even greater power.”

“For example, if two divine generals—one whose manifestation is like the wind, the other whose is flames that scorch the heavens—join forces, they can create a scene of fire consuming the sky, allowing the weak to overcome the strong. This, on a grand scale, is battle array coordination; on a small scale, it is manifestation fusion.”

“It requires endless refinement and mutual trust—thus, it is difficult.”

“But once unleashed, it can turn the tide of battle.”

“And you, carrying multiple manifestations, possess the strength to command an army of ten thousand or more—you are already a general, capable of coordinating many manifestations to overcome the strong. It is but ordinary.”

Xue Shen suddenly sighed: “What a pity.”

Li Guanyi frowned: “What?”

Xue Shen whispered: “What a pity I was not born in your era. In this chaotic world, I truly wish to fight you—after you have grown.”

Li Guanyi stepped back half a pace: “You’ll be the one fighting me.”

“Old man, stop indulging in such idle musings.”

Xue Shen burst into loud laughter.

Li Guanyi hesitated, then sat cross-legged and asked curiously:

“What level are the top ten generals in the world?”

Xue Shen raised an eyebrow: “What, you’ve made enemies with them?”

Li Guanyi said: “No, I’m just curious.”

Xue Shen thought for a moment: “I don’t know if your era’s generals have changed, but in chaotic times, culture decays and martial prowess only grows stronger. In my time, there was one standard for the top ten.”

He raised one finger: “One hundred thousand.”

“A general who commands one hundred thousand troops, personally leading a massive battle spanning the Nine Provinces, involving over a million warriors, yet maintaining perfect discipline and order—breaking the enemy and winning—that is a [Divine General].”

“A battle involving a million warriors…”

Li Guanyi’s pupils contracted as he murmured.

A million martial cultivators, over two hundred thousand who had entered the realm.

Raising swords and blades to fight.

Manifestations roared in the sky, generals charged across the battlefield—their roars and the clash of steel could blanket the Central Plains. One outburst could shake the world. This was the peak power of chaos—and his enemy, the true Bai Hu Grand Master, was such a supreme commander, leading an army of one hundred thousand, plus reserves and supply personnel—tens of thousands strong.

Li Guanyi felt the path ahead was distant.

Xue Shen waved his hand: “By the way, where are you headed?”

Li Guanyi briefly explained his plan to go to Jiangzhou City.

Xue Shen said: “Oh, Jiangzhou City, Chen Guo—descendant of Chen Xingyuan.”

Xue Shen stroked his chin, watching the boy struggling to sit up, dipping a brush in ink, eyes wide and openly staring at his forehead, then smiled calmly: “How about a deal? You don’t write the Zheng character on my forehead, and I’ll tell you a secret.”

Li Guanyi grinned, his gaze blazing.

It was the fire of vengeance.

“No deal!”

“I’m writing this character today, no matter what!”

“Old man!”

“Didn’t you enjoy winning before?”

Xue Shen said leisurely: “It was my old friend—Chen Guo’s founding ancestor.”

“He buried something excellent in Jiangzhou City.”

“I think you’ll be interested.”

Xue Shen’s lips slowly curled upward as he opened his hands slightly: “Back then, both he and I were feared by the Emperor of Zhongzhou. I was lazy and still left behind such a trick—how could someone like him have left nothing hidden?”

Li Guanyi froze mid-motion. Xue Shen said calmly:

“It was a mount.”

“A Qilin.”